Coping Mechanism
by Senatsu
Summary: After some calculated prying on Pascal's part, Hubert finally divulges to her just why, even now, he gives Asbel the cold shoulder. Thankfully, the Amarcian seems to have a tried-and-true remedy in mind for their brotherly problems. (Contains hints of Hu/Scal)


"Hey, Hu."

"Yes, Pascal?"

The Amarcian glanced at the retreating form of Asbel, then back to her current companion. "Now that the world's all saved and everybody's back to bein' lovey-dovey and stuff, how come ya still talk to your brother all frigid-like sometimes?" Hubert stiffened; the girl shrugged. "Just curious."

The young man turned his back on her, his fingers going to his glasses. "What makes you think I'm being… 'frigid-like,' as you call it?"

Pascal tipped her head back, tapping her chin. "Weeeeell… I guess, it's just, like a lot different than you talk to Cheria and Sophie, or Captain Malik… or even me!"

_'__Of course it's different than how I talk to _you,' Hubert thought sourly.

"Like sometimes you can just tell he wants to talk to ya and catch up and stuff cause he loves ya, and you're all, 'I'm busy with busy business stuff' and just like… y'know!" She waved her hand vaguely. "And I mean, we ALL know how stingy you are with your cute smiles, but you almost NEVER smile at Asbel! So I started wondering."

Hubert was caught between the warm mixture of pleasure and embarrassment that flooded his veins at the revelation that she thought his smiles were cute – and the sharp twist of shame that coiled in his gut at the truth ringing in her words. He knew she was right. It was just… complicated.

Pascal eyed him, surprised that the boy who was usually so quick to deny what he didn't want to admit now had nothing to say in argument.

"You're… not wrong," he finally muttered. He crossed his arms, bracing himself against the uncertainty of sharing anything further with her. After all, Pascal was only outmatched by Sophie in unintentionally shared gossip – neither of them seemed to know any better. But even still… he'd been able to connect with her when she'd weathered Fourier's sudden furious outburst in Velanik. Perhaps, now again…

"It's… complicated," he added weakly, echoing his thoughts aloud this time. He dared to sneak a glance at her.

"Try me?" Pascal gazed at him hopefully, hands planted palm-down on the ground between her outstretched legs, leaning forward in child-like anticipation.

Hubert sighed. Looking at her had been a tactical error: he knew damn well he couldn't say no to those eyes. Begrudgingly, he took a leaning stance against the low stone wall that Pascal had been resting her back against, staring at the glittering night sky. "It's coping, I suppose," he said, adjusting the frames that rested on the bridge of his nose, the moon's light glinting off them.

Anyone else might have remained quiet for fear of scaring a normally tight-lipped boy back into silence. Pascal didn't roll that way. "Coping? With what?"

Hubert locked gazes with her for just a moment, and the crooked smile that twisted his lips was so bitter and yet so forlorn that Pascal found herself unconsciously reaching up to grasp the hem of his coat, her heart aching with an unfamiliar emotion. "With being abandoned," he said, trying and failing to keep his voice light. "It's strange, isn't it? All the poverty, the hunger, the sickness, the devastation in this world – and what haunts me at night is the fact that I was given up for adoption from one good home into another. My excellent training, my privilege, my education, my current status – all of it rings hollow simply because I became someone else's son. Wallowing in self-pity, after all the true suffering I've seen with my own two eyes – it's downright shameful."

Pascal's grip only tightened on his coat. "It's human," she said simply, her gaze sober. "I get what you're sayin', Hu, but… just because someone else is suffering somethin' that might be worse doesn't mean that _your_ feelings don't matter." She paused, the gentle night breeze ruffling her hair. "Besides. How many people would go through bein' poor or hungry or sick just to stay with the people they care about? A whole heck of a lot and you know it!" She tipped her head up at him. "And you'da rather gone through a bunch of hard stuff together with your family than had a good life without them."

Pascal finally quieted, biting her lip and tracing a finger through the dirt in a half-baked attempt to draw a schematic she'd been working on the past few days. She could almost hear the gears turning in her friend's head as he remained standing silently beside her. She wondered, perhaps for the first time in her adult life, if she'd said too much.

Then, at last, he exhaled.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, you're right. And I was never allowed that choice. If Father had but given me the chance to stay, I… I would never have fought Asbel for the right to be heir. How could Father take what foolishness had befallen his own brothers and project it so unfairly onto Asbel and I? We could very well been arguing about _not_ wanting the title! I would have happily pursued my studies rather than the title of 'Lord,' and for all I know, Asbel may have run away to knight school regardless and abandoned the title voluntarily!" His cool voice turned raw and bitter at this last utterance. "He certainly wasted no time doing so as it was. Where I had no choice as to whether I remained with my family, he left of his own volition. And for what, so he could swing a shining sword around and save damsels and think himself 'strong'?! And now he would see us reconciled, after all this time. When we were mere children, he stowed away on a ship to sail the ocean and visit Richard, then managed to do so a second time for the sake of pursuing his dreams of knighthood – yet not once in all those seven years could he deign to set foot into Strahta and see his own brother?"

He unconsciously slammed a fist against the dusty stone wall behind him. "My head tells me that oversight was just a matter of my brother being an idiot who doesn't consider these things." He smiled bitterly again. "But that logic can't seem to overcome the feeling that it was instead because he valued his new friend and his wish to be a knight over his own brother." He sighed, seeming to regain a semblance of composure, shaking his head. "Of course, if humankind could simply talk themselves out of illogical emotions, we'd have solved every crises known to man long ago."

Pascal chuckled at this. "And then some!" she agreed cheerfully. "Look, Hu, why don'tcha just beat him up?"

The look on Hubert's face was one for the history books.

"I… I beg your pardon…?" he managed at long last, his voice cracking like a boy in the full swing of puberty.

She shrugged. "It's easy! Since you can't talk yourself outta bein' angry with him, you gotta use your fists instead!" The Amarcian girl grinned, clambering to her feet and shifting into a mock fighting stance, fists in the air. "Like revenge! Only not. You just punch each other until you feel better, that's all!"

Hubert continued staring at her, dumbfounded, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose comically.

She put her hands on her hips, bending forward and grinning at him. "You think I'm smart, right? Maybe even, I donno, a genius? Well, just trust me on this! You'll feel loads better after a good ol' fashioned fist fight."

Her friend cleared his throat, crossing his arms again. "I must admit," he muttered, "of all the answers I could have anticipated… that was not one of them. Quite frankly, I'm not sure _what_ to make of that… proposal."

Pascal tapped her chin again, her opposite hand propping her elbow up. "Mmm, it's like purging for your heart! Like… wiping a hard drive? No wait, 's called somethin'… OH!" She smacked a fist into her open palm. "Cathartic! It's cathartic, that's the word!"

This gave Hubert pause. Now THAT was a word he recognized – albeit one he generally only found tied to classical literature. Could she possibly have a valid point after all? He'd trust his very life in Pascal's hands when it came to technology, there was no doubt, but he wasn't entirely certain he was ready to take her relationship advice to heart.

Particularly not after her bizarre insistence that Richard and Asbel were clearly destined lovers.

The boy massaged his fingertips into the crease between his eyes, sighing. "I'll think about it," he conceded. Regardless of whether or not she was right, it wasn't as though anything else had won him progress in this battle with his emotions. It couldn't hurt to try, he supposed.

Well, bruises aside.

"That's what I like to hear!" she beamed at him, clapping him on the back heartily. "Lemme know how it goes! Ooo, can I watch?!"

Hubert had struggled valiantly up to this point to preserve his dignity, but alas, Pascal was always victorious at embarrassing him in the end. He planted his hand on her tousled head, pushing it down as she squeaked in surprise. "Absolutely not!" he told her, his face red.

"Aw, but Huuuu..." she whined, clutching his hand.

"Don't you 'but Hu' me!"

"But I totally wanna see you in a fist fight!"

"Why on _earth-_?!"

"Because I'll bet you look suuuper cool!" she insisted, her eyes shining. "Just like the Sunscreen Rangers!"

"..."

No, no he would not fall for that. Just because he might already be fantasizing about the thought of looking like a Sunscreen Ranger in the eyes of the woman he loved did not mean he was going to simply give in and let her watch a private, emotional... fist fight... between himself and his only brother. He glanced down at her, then kicked himself mentally - the same tactical error twice in one night, _damn those eyes of hers._ He really seemed to have trouble learning his lesson when it came to Pascal.

"Maybe... eventually," he muttered reluctantly. A compromise was the only way out of this one.

Satisfied, Pascal straightened, folding her hands behind her head cheerfully. "Y'okay! It's a promise!"

If it could even be considered a way out at all. Dammit.

Still, now he had to convince Asbel to fight him - how was he going to persuade his goody-two-shoes brother that punching out their feelings made any kind of sense? That, he was perhaps going to have to ponder on a little longer. But for now...

"Pascal?"

"Yeah, Hu?"

"... Thank you."

She beamed up at him again as they strolled back toward their camp site, side by side. "You're wel-"

Hubert mustered every nerve he possessed in that moment, leaning over and brushing his lips against her cheek before immediately fleeing toward the camp in the form of long, brisk strides he knew she couldn't possibly hope to keep up with. It wasn't as if she was going to understand the kiss correctly anyhow, knowing Pascal as well as he did, but he couldn't help hoping that one day, the little everyday moments like this might one day formulate into an equation she could finally interpret.

If only he'd turned around just then and seen her in that moment - frozen in place, one hand on her now-flushed cheek where his lips had been, her expression somewhere between confused and flustered. He just might have started to hope that perhaps that day wasn't so far off, after all...


End file.
